


Abaddon's Child

by flipperland



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipperland/pseuds/flipperland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[SPOILERS for the finale of Kuroshitsuji II!] Ciel Phantomhive is quite determined to make his demon butler suffer and grovel at his feet for all eternity, but Sebastian Michaelis has another idea in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abaddon's Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltat/gifts).



It should have ended with Ciel’s revenge. Their contract had been fulfilled and Sebastian Michaelis had every right to take his soul, to devour it as he had wanted to, ever since he’d first laid eyes on the boy. It should have ended, but it didn’t, and Claude Faustus’ interference was the first link in the chain of catastrophic events which culminated in Sebastian’s eternal servitude to Ciel Phantomhive, the boy demon.

 

This story shouldn’t exist, but it does.

 

* * *

 

After all has been said and done, after they said their goodbyes and Ciel’s parting gifts have all been delivered, Sebastian takes them to a place where no human being can ever tread. He carries Ciel Phamtomhive through a field of roses, and with each passing step, he realizes something important, something eerily _final_ : the weight of his young master has never seemed so heavy in his arms. Perhaps Ciel’s metamorphosis had changed him in more ways than Sebastian had imagined, and had given him the aura, scent and weight of something _ageless_ ; perhaps Sebastian Michaelis had his energy sapped away when the knowledge that he would never have Ciel’s soul sank in… or perhaps it was the burden of being enslaved to Ciel for all eternity that made his arms feel heavier.

 

As they approach the edge of the cliff, Sebastian finally breaks the oppressing silence. “ _Where shall we go?”_

 

“ _I don’t care.”_ Ciel pauses, looks off into the distance. _“Because where we’ll end up, for both demons and humans… is that place where all are equal_.” He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and smiles slightly. “ _It feels nice. As if I have been released from a long curse._ ”

 

The older demon looks down at the face of his once pure master, narrows his eyes. He wants to speak his mind and snarl the deadliest, most poisonous words at his master, but he knows it would be pointless: after all, Ciel is all too aware of how their new agreement makes him feel. “ _Yes. And in exchange_ ,” Ciel’s hand tightens on Sebastian’s shoulder, possessive and warning all at once. “ _I have been given an eternal curse.”_

 _“You are my butler._ ”

 

“ _I am your butler… for all eternity._ ”

 

The rose petals flutter by, as meaningless and fragile as the lives of the humans Ciel will most certainly play with, in a not-so-distant future.

 

“ _From now on, you shall give me only one response. You know it, don’t you._ ”

 

The arms around the butler’s neck tighten and that is the only cue he needs: Sebastian leaps off of the cliff and they plunge into nothingness together, leaving everything behind. “ _Yes, my Lord._ ”

 

* * *

 

Ciel Phantomhive wants to experience _everything_. He asks-- no, _orders_ \-- Sebastian to tell him how to fly, how to fight, how to control human minds with something as simple as a glance, and Sebastian Michaelis says everything there is to say about demon abilities, almost as if he were reading a bedtime story to a child. But Ciel isn’t a child and Ciel doesn’t sleep anymore: he stays awake, wide eyed and paying close attention to every tidbit of information he is given. Sebastian speaks for days and only becomes quiet when there’s nothing left to say, when all of his demonic secrets have been spilled out and lain at his Master’s feet.

 

* * *

 

Killing comes as naturally to him as breathing, Ciel quickly realizes. He feels an odd kind of exhilaration as he sinks his teeth into a warm, inviting neck, rips out the jugular and tastes the blood on his lips. He starts with criminals-- murderers, thieves-- and then moves on to the innocent. Sebastian thinks he should be surprised that Ciel Phantomhive is losing what’s left of his humanity so quickly, but he can’t find it in himself to be shocked: there had always been something wicked in him, even back when he was a boy, something so dark that Sebastian could have lost himself in it, if he had looked too deeply.

 

It doesn’t take him long to try his hand at Hell itself. Ciel doesn’t wear his eye patch when they set foot in that damned place for the first time: he wants every demon and damned soul to recognize Sebastian’s mark on him, to realize just what that implies. Sebastian can feel the other demons’ eyes on them-- on _him_ , the little demon’s lapdog, his _slave_ \-- and there’s a mixture of envy and dark amusement: envy, that someone as inexperienced as Ciel Phantomhive could have already reached such levels of power in such a short span of time; amusement, that someone as proud and arrogant as Sebastian Michaelis had fallen so low, earning himself an eternity of servitude.

 

He makes Sebastian carry him as they walk through the nine circles of Hell. His butler stands with his head held high, even in such a degrading position; the skin underneath his feet blisters and burns down to the bone, and yet it’s a much more pleasant feeling than being humiliated in such a way. Ciel asks him to pause every time they reach a new circle: he wants to observe it all, to know both demons and souls alike. He is particularly interested in the second circle, where the lustful are punished; his head tilts curiously to the side as he sees a writhing mass of bodies in front of him, the souls and devils almost indistinguishable from one another. There are screams of pleasure and screams of pain, and a slow smile forms on Ciel’s lips; Sebastian doesn’t know what to think when he feels his Master’s claws curling dangerously on his neck and his arms wrap tighter around him. The aura that exudes off of him seems to taint even Hell itself, and the demons closest to them look at Ciel in alarm before scurrying away in fear.

 

Ciel begins to laugh, a low, escalating sound that reverberates around them and sends a shiver down Sebastian’s spine. The younger demon leans in and tucks his head against the crook of Sebastian’s neck, in hales the odd conflict of feelings his butler is experiencing. He got what he came for; they can finally leave.

 

* * *

One day, Ciel issues the order that Sebastian had been dreading all along.

 

“Sebastian”, he says, cradling the other demon’s face in his hands. Sebastian Michaelis is on his knees in front of him, and he looks up at his Master when the younger demon speaks. Ciel’s nails are sharper than when he was a human, and they dig into Sebastian’s skin hard enough to cut, making little droplets of blood slide down his cheeks. An amused smile forms on the corners of Ciel’s lips; he is reminded of all those supposed miracles, the statues of saints that cried blood. “Teach me how to form a contract with a human.”

 

The reply comes without thinking, like it has so many times before, but it’s an infuriating mockery of what it used to be, when Ciel was still human: “Yes, my Lord.”

 

* * *

 

The choice of his first victim is not a hard one to make. Sebastian dresses his Master in his finest clothes  and makes sure that not a single hair is out of place; even his eyepatch is fastened securely around his head, even though Ciel has never needed it ever since he left the Phamtomhive Manor a few years back. “Everything has been prepared in accordance to your wishes, my Lord.”

 

Lady Elizabeth Middleford had fallen severely ill with pneumonia and Ciel visits her in her deathbed, offers her a chance to go back to how things were before he left so many years ago; a temporary revival of the only time when she had been truly happy. Lizzie doesn’t think twice before accepting, even when the terms of their contract are thoroughly explained to her, and the tears she cries when Ciel brands his mark upon her are tears of pleasure, not pain.

 

They travel around the world for one year, and every day is filled with happiness. Ciel takes her to Paris: they go shopping on the Champs Elysées and they have tea in the Palace of Versailles; they waltz in Vienna and visit the Mayan temples of Chichén-Itzá. Elizabeth is specially fascinated by the geisha in Kyoto, and how effortless their beauty seems to be, but Ciel has no eyes for anyone but her: she notices his attentions are focused on her, and smiles.

 

Sweet, darling Lizzie doesn’t mind that strange red gleam in her Ciel’s eyes, oddly similar to his butler’s, who just stands by as he watches them and waits, in case his Master wishes for something. Vaguely, she thinks of what a wonderful butler he must be, to stick to his Master’s side for so long, to keep him company in all the times of need that her beloved must surely have gone through. Ciel just smiles, and if that smile seems odd to her, she doesn’t notice it, either. Instead, she leans a little closer against him, grips his hand in hers a little tighter than before.

 

They return to Paris on the last day of the year, and Sebastian finds them a luxurious room with an impressive view of the Eiffel Tower. Lizzie knows what that date means all too well, but Ciel remains unchanged; they dance underneath the candelabra and the former Earl Phantomhive steals one kiss, and then another, and it doesn’t take long before Elizabeth’s hands are on his biceps, clinging to him almost painfully as he lowers them both to the floor. Sebastian watches from the shadows when Ciel slips a hand underneath Lizzie’s skirts and touches the inside of her thigh, his fingertips brushing against the place where his mark has been branded against her soft skin; her breathing quickens and the warmth of her blush is almost palpable from where Sebastian is standing. He’s quiet as Ciel’s hand moves further up, as clothes are dismissed and then Ciel is pressing closer and pushing deeper, devouring any traces of innocence that Elizabeth Middleford still had until then.

 

It’s at that moment, when Lizzie is at her most vulnerable and  the words _I love you_ form on her smiling lips, that Ciel rips her soul from her body. Her corpse lies limp on to the floor, underneath him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and the demon Ciel Phantomhive looks at her in an affectionate manner, almost; if it weren’t for the blood splattered on his naked body, anyone would have mistaken his glance for something tender.

 

He makes Sebastian lick every drop of blood on his skin as he devours Elizabeth Middleford’s soul. It’s as delectable as Ciel had imagined it to be, and the younger demon groans, overwhelmed by the pleasure he feels from consuming such a pure soul. Somewhere along the way-- he cannot say when; time seems to slow down when he’s feeling such unadulterated _ecstasy_ \-- he transforms into his demon form, and Sebastian feels scales instead of skin underneath his tongue, but he keeps on licking. He doesn’t stop until Ciel tells him to; when that happens, his Master is once again human and he curls lazily against Sebastian, completely spent.

 

Ciel sleeps for six days and Sebastian watches him rest. More than once, his hands twitch and he reaches for his Master’s neck, but he stops himself from doing anything else; he wouldn’t be able to kill him, and any attempt would only anger Ciel and lead to unpleasant consequences.

 

And so he waits, wishing for the moment where he can retrieve Laevatein and end this matter once and for all.

 

* * *

 

One more contract is formed and consummated, followed by another. Ciel grows stronger with each soul he takes as his own, and Sebastian can do nothing but watch.

 

Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly generous, Ciel lets him have a taste, and Sebastian doesn’t know which is worse: being denied of any souls whatsoever or having a faint taste of what should be _his,_ if he were actually free instead of being Ciel’s lapdog. But he still seizes the opportunity for what it’s worth, even though his Master feeds him like a dog-- on his hands and knees, a pale, small hand running through his black hair as if petting him-- and laughs when Sebastian greedily devours the soul he was offered, as much as he can, before Ciel Phamtomhive takes it away.

 

He is immediately reminded of Pluto, and—ironically-- the thought almost makes him growl in disgust.

 

“Mind your manners, Sebastian,” he says in an obviously amused tone, eating the shattered remains of the soul grasped in his hand. “Your behavior is appallingly similar to a dog’s.”

 

Sebastian’s fingers curl into fists but he doesn’t react otherwise; he bows his head and closes his eyes, ignores the painful tugging of those fingers on his hair. “Yes, my Lord.”

 

* * *

 

He has dreams, sometimes, or hallucinations; he can never be too sure. Maybe the lack of proper demonical nourishment has taken its toll on him. Sometimes, he rips Ciel’s body to shreds with his own claws and consumes his demon soul, as well as all the human souls that Ciel has ever claimed as his own. Those are the only moments he is superior to Ciel Phantomhive: the only times his blows actually hurt him, the only times he is able to end that brat’s troublesome existence. The only times he can ever say something else besides ‘Yes, my lord’.

 

Other times, however, Ciel takes their contract a bit too far, and Sebastian doesn’t know where their existences end or begin. One moment Ciel is surrounding him, asphyxiating him with his unfurled wings and holding him in a deadly tight grip, and then he’s tugging him down, claws gripping tightly on Sebastian’s hair as he forces his mouth against his crotch. The dream reminds Sebastian of the second circle of Hell, and that thought is enough to turn the tables: he’s inside Ciel and _Ciel_ is inside _him_ , and their human and demon bodies melt together in a mixture of profanity and divinity so grand and pleasurable that it makes every other experience in Sebastian’s existence feel as insignificant as a fleck of dust.

 

It’s not until much later that he sees the small knowing smirk on Ciel’s lips and realizes he hasn’t been dreaming, after all.

 

* * *

 

Sebastian starves and grows restless, almost desperate, as the time goes by and he doesn’t consume any souls. Ciel finds it very amusing at first, but then he sees how much it affects Sebastian-- who has been turning in and out of his demon form without any specific reason to, almost as if he is too out of it to control his own body-- and realizes he has to do _something_ if he wants his butler in complete control of himself.

 

Sebastian can’t contract with a human because he is still bound to him, so Ciel brings him a few souls, enough to keep him well-fed for well over a human century.  The older demon devours them greedily, and soon enough he’s the same Sebastian Michaelis he’s always been: calm and composed, although significantly more frustrated than what he used to be, before Ciel turned into a demon.

 

His Master watches him closely. “Are those souls going to be enough to keep you acting as my butler instead of a mindless animal?”

 

Sebastian closes his eyes and nods once, allows the shadow of a smile to form on his lips. “Yes, my Lord.” Truthfully, he hadn’t been _that_ far gone, but he had decided to give dramatics a try. Who knew it could work so well?

 

* * *

 

The time would come, Sebastian  knew; he only had to be patient. He would endure his Master’s childish behavior and his seemingly unending lust for power; he would make it through the humiliation and domination.

 

And so, he waits.

 

* * *

 

Ciel becomes one of the most powerful demons Sebastian Michaelis has ever met; which is saying something, because he’s well acquainted with Hell’s deadliest and most dangerous creatures.  But he’s still young, nothing but a toddler in demon years, and thus doesn’t know the same things Sebastian Michaelis does; because while he had revealed everything there was to reveal about demon abilities and powers in general, he didn’t tell him what being a demon truly _was_. There were stories passed down through generations of demons, much like what happened with their human counterparts, stories almost as old as the Earth itself, which he hadn’t yet revealed to his Master.

 

As it is, Ciel Phantomhive doesn’t know about demon genealogy, or how certain powers and weapons are handed down when a demon ceases to exist. He doesn’t know much about Laevatein other than how powerful of a weapon it is, and that Claude and Sebastian used it in their final duel. Most of all, he doesn’t know that Laevatein was passed along through a demon bloodline-- like a heirloom would have been passed down the generations of an important family-- from the very first demon who held it within him, to the one he created, Hannah Anafeloz… and now, _him_.

 

No, the little Master did not know such things, and Sebastian didn’t plan on telling him. Ignorance is bliss, or so humans say.

 

* * *

 

“My Lord. May I ask inquire you about a certain matter…?”

 

Ciel Phantomhive looks at his butler with a bored expression and waves a hand dismissively, telling him to go ahead. He sits on his throne, overlooking the third circle of Hell, overpopulated by the gluttons and guarded by Cerberus.

 

“I have been concerned about your fangs. You have been using them quite frequently, and even for a demon, it’s important to maintain them.” He points to his own mouth, parts his lips slightly so Ciel is able to see his own fangs.

 

The younger demon is doubting his words, Sebastian can tell, but he doesn’t blame him. It would be a very odd world if demons started to trust each other, after all, even when under an arrangement as unique as theirs. “What about them, Sebastian? Of all your abilities as a demon and a butler, I wasn’t aware dentistry was on the list.” Ciel narrows his eyes and beckons Cerberus over with a finger; the three headed dog pads over and sits by his side, attentive. Sebastian tenses and Ciel smirks as he notices it; his butler had never been a fan of dogs, least of all three-headed ones.

 

“I have many talents, my Lord.” He doesn’t even try to hide his disdain for the creature by his Master’s side. “I merely wish to help you.”

 

Cerberus growls and Ciel pats one of its heads, soothing it. He nods and gives his consent to Sebastian; he knows that even if his butler tries something he shouldn’t, Cerberus will protect him.

 

Sebastian nods curtly in reply and leans in, brings his hand to Ciel’s chin and tugs softly, opening his mouth. He is the picture of utmost concentration, his brows slightly furrowed as his eyes look closely ahead, his hand moving to touch one of Ciel’s fangs--

 

\-- and then his entire hand is shoved inside Ciel’s mouth. Cerberus stands up and growls as Ciel lets out a muffled sound of surprise, and Sebastian uses the opportunity to shove his hand deeper, past his throat; just as quickly, Cerberus stops growling and takes one step away from them, and Ciel’s looking from his butler to his demonic pet dog with increasing alarm. He wants to tell Sebastian to stop but the forearm currently being shoved down his throat doesn’t let him, and the older demon is thankful that he doesn’t have to listen to the brat’s voice grating on his nerves once again.

 

For the first time since they left London all those years ago, Sebastian sees a spark of Ciel’s humanity return, because for the briefest of moments he looks like the boy he used to be: surprised, incredulous and a little bit scared. He shoves his arm in _deeper_ until he finds the familiar hilt of the demon sword; Ciel chokes and his eyes widen almost comically as he feels something hard and unmistakably sword-like inside of him being grasped and pulled by Sebastian’s hand. Cerberus whines low in its throat as the hilt of the sword slides out of Ciel’s mouth, followed slowly and painfully by the shaft of Laevatein, the demon sword. The blade slides against Ciel’s lips and cuts through the skin, which heals immediately but not before a small trickle of blood slides down the boy’s chin.

 

“S-Sebas…” He takes in a deep lungful of air, coughs and tries to make himself speak again. “W-What were you…?”

 

“Before her death, Hannah Anafeloz was the Laevatein’s vessel, the demon container for the demon sword.” Sebastian Michaelis examines the sword closely as he explains, completely dismissing Ciel’s state. “By transforming you into a demon moments before her death, she ensured that you would be the next vessel.”

 

It was difficult to tell if the flush on Ciel’s cheeks was caused by the anger he felt or his previous difficulty with breathing. “W-What did you say?” His words are no more than hisses, making Cerberus whine once again and a smirk form on Sebastian’s lips.

 

“I’m quite certain that having a sword pulled out of you didn’t damage your hearing, my Lord,” he answers, feeling significantly bolder now that he had  a weapon lethal enough to kill the demon in front of him, as well as his three-headed dog, if he so wished. Gracefully, he swishes the sword and points it at Cerberus, who growls and scrambles away to safety. Ciel’s eyes flicker to the creature and then back at Sebastian; any apprehension he might have initially had is gone from his eyes, and instead, he looks at his butler defiantly.

 

“Are you going to kill me?” The seal in his right eye flashes brightly. “I order you not to kill me, Sebastian!”

 

A slow, dark smile forms on the butler’s lips. “Laevatein’s power manifests itself through various means,” he explains, running a hand slowly along the blade. “One of which is the bond between the sword and the one who wields it. You see, _my Lord_ ,” the contempt in those words is clear, and Sebastian invades Ciel’s personal space once again, presses the smaller body against the throne with his own. “The bond between the Laevatein and the demon who wields it is sovereign, and able to overrule even a contract such as ours. As long as I have it in my hands, I am able to end this matter once and for all.” To make his point even clearer, Sebastian brings the sword between them, presses it against Ciel’s neck, hard enough to cut but not enough to draw blood. He can almost hear Ciel’s rushed heartbeat, taste the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The boy is _frightened_ , and no façade of his will hide that fact, no matter how much Ciel tries.

 

A few demons nearby stop their torturing and glance at them, but the pair pay them no mind. Were the circumstances different, Ciel would have defied him-- would have most likely accused him of bluffing and called him a liar-- but a demon tends to see things differently when the only weapon that can kill him is one push away from chopping his head off.

 

Satisfied with Ciel’s silence, Sebastian continues. “We seem to have reached an impasse, Ciel Phantomhive.” The sword presses closer and a trickle of blood forms on Ciel’s neck; unlike any of his other wounds so far, this one doesn’t heal instantly, and Ciel wonders if it will heal at all. Sebastian leans in to lick it. “I wield the sword that can end your existence, which I can take out of your body whenever I can. You, on the other hand,” his dark smile widens, “cannot do it on your own. And you are not yet powerful enough to battle me for Laevatein.”

 

“We could be unstoppable, if you came down from the megalomaniac high your mind has been residing in; _we_ , not _you._ With the sword of darkness, we could overcome any obstacle, even Lucifer himself.” The sword pulls back by a fraction, enough to slide it down Ciel’s neck, and to his collar. His ribcage doesn’t matter: the demon sword would be able to cut through his bones like a hot knife through butter. “Of course, you could try to get some help and betray me. Perhaps another demon could defeat me and you wouldn’t have to worry about this--“ the blade presses in--“ happening again. Unless, of course, you consider that the friendly demon who helps you is after Laevatein as well... in which case, your brief existence as a demon will end shortly after mine.” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, watches him with a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Which option do you prefer, my Lord?” Around the boy’s throne, both demons and punished souls are watching, some curiously and some in terror, for those two particular demons could very well become their rulers in a not-so-distant future.

 

Ciel Phantomhive is quiet for what seems like an eternity. He never looks away from Sebastian, defying him with his eyes in a way that he does not dare to do using words. While he is proud and arrogant, even more as a demon than he was as a human, his pride doesn’t blind him: he knows fully well that Sebastian speaks the truth, and to defy him in such a delicate situation-- specially after the way he has treated him since they left Phantomhive Manor-- would be suicidal, and Ciel wants to remain alive, thank you very much.

 

His eyes narrow slightly and his voice is perfectly controlled when he speaks again. “Name your conditions.” There was always a price to pay whenever Sebastian was involved, after all.

 

Sebastian smiles and his eyes flash demonically, but his grip on Laevatein doesn’t loosen and the blade is still pressed tightly against Ciel’s skin. “You will treat me as your equal. You may address me like you always have, and I will do the same for you, if you so wish. You will contract with souls and share them with me, seeing as I cannot contract with another soul as long as our little agreement still stands. You will _not_ disrespect me or treat me like a dog. Do you understand my words, Ciel Phamtomhive?” He pulls back slightly, but the blade is still pressed against his Master. “If you disrespect my terms, you will experience Laevatein’s power first hand. Is that clear?”

 

Unblinking, Ciel nods his ‘ _yes_ ’, even though the motion makes his skin move against the blade, drawing yet more droplets of blood. Seeing this, Sebastian pulls the blade back enough for the boy to breathe and move his neck without cutting himself in the process, and Ciel finally dares to breathe deeply and look at somewhere else other than his demon butler.

 

This seems to remind Sebastian of their audience, and with a roar and a quick change into his demon form, everyone else seems to scramble away. Satisfied with his intimidation techniques—although he knows the demon sword played a major role in such an easy intimidation—he turns back to his Master, pulls the sword away from him but never loosens his hold on the hilt. “A wise choice,” he remarks, reaches forward to grasp Ciel’s chin in his hand. “Open your mouth, my Lord. The sword must be sheathed.”

 

Ciel almost jerks away from that touch, almost; instead, he does as he is told and opens his mouth wide. Sebastian places the tip of the blade against his tongue and presses in, taking pleasure in the way Ciel winces and chokes as the sword slides all the way down his esophagus. Soon, Sebastian’s hand follows, and then his forearm, until he is absolutely sure that Laevatein is firmly placed where it should be: inside Ciel Phantomhive and enclosed in darkness.

 

When he removes his forearm and then his hand, Ciel is left panting, but not as much as before. Sebastian leans in to lick the blood falling from the boy demon’s lips, and Ciel doesn’t flinch; he just leans back against his throne, exhausted. Another lick, and then another, and Sebastian finally pulls back, running the tip of his tongue along his own lips and looking very much cat-like.

 

Ciel wonders if he should be amused and realizes that, if this had happened before they left London, he most likely would have been. As it is, he is too exhausted, frustrated and angry to be amused; he had wanted to have the upper hand, for once, and yet Sebastian proved him wrong.

 

He should have seen it coming, but somehow, he didn’t; demons would always be demons, no matter who they were contracted to, or how easy it seemed to control them at first glance.

 

Sebastian watches him closely, curiously, and finally speaks again. “If I may suggest something, my Lord?” His expression is falsely innocent and Ciel doesn’t like it one bit;  the ‘suggestion’ might as well have been an ‘order’ in this situation, because Ciel was now very much aware of just what Sebastian could do. He nods-- even though he didn’t need to-- and his butler resumes speaking. “Given certain unspeakable things you have made me go through,” _and that you will suffer in return,_ was the unspoken threat, “I do believe that you should rule the second circle of Hell, and not the third.”

 

The glare that Ciel directed at him would have made other demons cower and run for their lives, but Sebastian Michaelis only smiles calmly at his Master. Perhaps eternity was going to be an interesting thing to experience, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is a reference to Abaddon, which means "a place of destruction" and "the king of the bottomless pit", in Hebrew and Christian scriptures, respectively.
> 
> The dialogue between Sebastian and Ciel in italics (at the beginning of this fic) was directly taken from the last episode of Kuroshitsuji II.
> 
> Last but not the least, a word to my Yuletide recipient: I apologize if I didn't follow your details as thoroughly as I would have liked, but this plot bunny bit hard and wouldn't let go, no matter how much I shook it. Either way, I hope you enjoy the fic. Happy holidays! «3


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